


Roses

by tardisswimmingpool



Category: BBC Sherlock
Genre: M/M, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 22:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13579968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisswimmingpool/pseuds/tardisswimmingpool
Summary: After a one night stand with a certain detective inspector, Mycroft Holmes enters a state of confusion and frustration as he attempts to understand the feelings he has for the other man





	Roses

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven’t written in like a year. Oops...

“Mr. Holmes?”

It was nearing dusk when I heard the voice of my assistant through the doorway. I peeked over the mountain of papers on my desk to see her heading towards me. It was not unusual for her to enter my office with such haste. I assumed she had another stack of files for me, but, to my surprise, she was holding a bouquet of roses in her arms. 

“These came for you,” she mumbled as she dropped the flowers in my lap. 

I looked down and chuckled, “Flowers? Well, Anthea I’m flattered.”

“They aren’t from me,” she said as she pulled out her phone and began texting, “They’re from that inspector, I believe.”

My smile ceased. 

“Lestrade? Not again…” I tossed the flowers in the garbage can near my feet. “I thought I told him I wasn’t interested.”

“He’s persistent, that’s for sure,” she laughed at something on her screen before continuing, “How’d you get involved with him anyway?”

“Involved? I’m not…”

“You slept with him, didn’t you?” 

I froze, a few droplets of sweat forming on my brow, “That’s a little out of line, don’t you think?” 

“You must have made quite the impression,” she looked up from her blackberry and winked. 

I stared at her for a moment, not knowing whether I should be angry or embarrassed. Either way, I did not wish to continue this conversation. 

“My personal life is none of your concern,” I said calmly. 

“Look, whatever happened between you, just make sure you let him down easy because he seems like a good guy.”

“Anthea, if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to do. Why don’t you go ahead and go home?”

“Shame really. He’s kind of cute.” 

“Preferably sometime this century,” I pointed towards the door.

Anthea did as I asked, and soon I was alone. My eyes traveled to the flowers, their rosy petals reminding me of lips I should never have kissed. 

“Dammit!” I kicked the garbage can over, “Why couldn’t I have just gone home? Why did I have to stay and allow myself to be so vulnerable?”

It was at a dinner party my brother and his partner were throwing to celebrate their upcoming marriage. My attendance seemed silly as I was never interested in the domestic life, but I knew that if I didn’t make an appearance, our mother would never let me hear the end of it.

So there I was, sipping wine on the sofa, watching the two of them giggling like idiots which I suppose is what you do when you are engaged. They were in the middle of telling their how-we-met story for about the millionth time when one of the other guests decided to sit down next to me. 

I had met this man a few times before. He was probably in his mid-fifties, relatively fit in my opinion. He wasn’t super tall, but I’d say above average height, and he had the most beautiful hair- a lovely silver color. His name was Greg and he was a well-known detective inspector for the London Police Department. He was also my brother’s babysitter who kept him out of trouble when I was too busy to deal with his illegal escapades. 

Despite our history, I had never had a traditional conversation with Lestrade, so naturally I had no idea how to address the situation. To my relief, he broke the ice before I could suffer in the silence. 

“Mr. Holmes, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Yea, well as much as it pains me, attending such events falls under my brotherly duties. I really don’t have much choice in the matter.”

“Regardless, I’m sure he appreciates it. I mean, just knowing that his older brother is being supportive.”

“I suppose.”

Suddenly there was cheering followed by my mother and Mrs. Hudson chanting “KISS, KISS, KISS.” We turned our heads and everyone appeared to be focused on Sherlock and John who had just finished their narrative. My brother’s cheeks were red as a tomato as his fiancee stood on his tiptoes to place a tender kiss on his lips. Everyone clapped. 

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Lestrade said.

All the guests were now gathered around the couple, including John’s daughter who was nearly three now and had left her play area to see what the fuss was about. Her father smiled down at her, and crouched down so he could lift her onto his shoulders. She laughed as children often do, and suddenly a dorky grin spread across my brother’s face. He leaned forward to give the child a peck on the cheek. 

“They really are in love, huh?”

“If Sherlock Holmes is capable of such a thing,” I mumbled as I took a sip of wine. 

“I remember the day I got married. I always thought my wedding day would be the happiest moment of my life, and it was for the most part. But I should’ve realized that it wouldn’t work out between us. We never had what these two have. I mean, look at the way John’s eyes glow when he looks at Sherlock. We never had that. There was no spark.”

“Do you think you will ever find that person?”

“I like to think so. But that’s probably just the hopeless romantic in me,” he yawned, “What about you, Mr. Holmes?”

“I’ve never been one for such matters.”

“I figured you would say that,” he chuckled. 

The two of us continued our conversation until the stroke of nine when the party drew to a close. I bid farewell to the lovebirds and began my departure from 221B. Greg followed me down the stairs to my cab. He reached out to shake my hand farewell, but then hesitated. He bit his lip and began to ruminate about something before he finally offered a very peculiar proposition. 

“Mr. Holmes, I know this isn’t proper given your position, but would you like to accompany me for a drink?”

“Haven’t we already had a few too many glasses of wine, Inspector?”

“Yea, but that stuff is pretty much grape juice with a kick. It wouldn’t hurt to have one more drink- a real drink. Besides, I’d hate to cut things off when we are just getting to know one another.”

“It’s not like this is our first meeting, Inspector.”

“No, but it’s our first real conversation. You know, outside of work. And who knows when we will get to hang out like this again. So come on, it’s on me.”

I hesitated. The bar scene was even more foreign to me than domestic affairs, and I had important business to attend to in the morning so I wasn’t keen on staying up half the night. Still, I hadn’t taken a personal evening in quite awhile, and, despite my initial doubts, I was actually enjoying my time with the inspector. Like he said, one more drink wouldn’t hurt…

“Alright, Inspector,” I said, “I’ll take you up on your offer.”

I don’t remember much after that. It’s all a bit of a blur, but I can still vaguely picture the row of empty shot glasses on the counter in front of us. Now, I never do shots but for some reason I felt the need to fit in with the rest of the patrons so I agreed to try it. I’m not exactly sure what type of alcohol I was consuming but it tasted good-really good. It tasted so good that I kept gulping down one after the other. Eventually, Inspector Lestrade had to stop me before I overdid it. 

“Woah, take it easy,” he laughed. “How do you feel?”

“A bit buzzed,” I remember saying. 

“Well in that case, maybe we should cut you off. 

You have work in the morning, remember?”  
He made a motion for the bartender to bring us the bill which he insisted on paying. After that, we danced for awhile until I began to get a little nauseous. He then put his arm around me and helped me outside to the cab. The last thing I remember is him walking me up to my flat.  
We were standing on the doorstep when to my surprise, he leaned forward and kissed me gently. I didn’t react at first. I mean, he had had a few drinks himself and we had been talking about love and marriage all evening so it made sense that this sort of thing was on his mind. He probably wasn’t even fully aware of what he was doing. But me...god knows what was going through my mind, but as he pulled away, as if on impulse I grabbed him by his shirt and brought him back towards me. I looked into his eyes for a moment, and then we were kissing again. This time it was more passionately. 

And that’s the last thing I can recall before the following morning. I woke up with a start and we were both lying in bed in our underwear. It wasn’t even dawn yet, but I rushed out from under the covers and threw on the nearest pair of clothes. Lestrade was still fast asleep so he didn’t notice me slip out of the apartment. 

I called a cab and had it take me back home. I didn’t go into work that day, had Anthea cancel any appointments I had, because I couldn’t bring myself to go out in public. All I could do was lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering “what the hell did I do?” 

For the next few weeks, I kept getting calls and texts from Greg. Nothing serious, just casual stuff, asking me how I was or if I wanted to go grab lunch (an offer I would politely decline). I didn’t worry too much about it. I figured maybe it didn’t mean anything. But then I got the first set of flowers. 

I tried to handle the situation with care. I didn’t want to hurt him, but whatever it was that we did, it could only be a one time thing. I tried to explain that to him, but I guess I wasn’t direct enough because here was another bouquet sent to my office. 

Sighing, I picked up the bouquet and brought it up to my nose so that I could take in the fragrance. It was nice, after all I had always been fond of roses. My mother used to have a whole bunch of them in the garden when I was a child, and I was fond of picking them which resulted in several nasty cuts on the palms of my hands from the thorns. I suppose there’s a lesson to be learned there. With beauty comes pain and with love comes heartbreak. And as much as I enjoyed Greg’s company, I couldn't risk having my heart ripped out. 

It all seemed so weird to think about. I mean, after all, as far as anyone else was concerned, I was a a stone-cold bastard who didn’t give a damn about anything but the security of his country. I even convinced myself of that, and the only times the facade ever weakened was when my brother was in trouble. 

But now…now I had opened myself up to someone. I had been vulnerable and that is something I’ve never done. And the worst part is, I liked it. 

“Ugh, what is wrong with me?” I rubbed at my eyes and stood up. 

My office had no windows, but something told me the sun had set, and it had been such a long day that I decided to just call it a night. I reached for my coat and my umbrella and suddenly my phone rang. The caller ID showed an unknown number. I hit ignore. 

The streets of London were as busy as ever when I exited the building. It took my driver bloody forever to find a parking space, but, just as I was stepping inside the car, somebody grabbed my arm. 

“Mycroft.”

Fuck. I let out a deep breath and licked my lips. 

“Inspector Lestrade,” I said, “Pleasure to see you as always.”

“Likewise,” he said with a goofy smile, “Hey, do you have a second?”

“Well, I was actually just about to head home. It’s been a rough day.”

“Do you mind if I tag along? I was hoping to talk to you. I can catch a cab back to my place once we get there.”

“I really don’t think…”

“Please? It’s important.”

Knowing I was going to regret it, I climbed into the car and motioned for him to sit next to me. 

“Where to, Mr. Holmes?” the driver asked.

“Home.”

“Very well, sir.”

The car lurched forward and suddenly we were moving. I grabbed a remote from my seat pocket and pushed the big green button in the center of it. A dark shade then went up, separating us from the front part of the car. I set the remote in my lap and turned to look out the window. Lestrade began to speak but I refused to make eye contact. 

“Did you get my flowers?” he asked.

“Yes,” I mumbled, “It was a nice gesture, but…”

“Look, Mycroft. I know you said you weren’t interested. And normally I would respect that and move on, but something tells me that it was more than just a one night stand.”

“It wasn’t.”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything.”

“Greg...” I hesitated.

“You did feel a connection!”

“I never said that.”

“You felt a connection. I know you did. I’m not crazy.”

“Ok, so what if I did? That doesn’t change the fact that it was a mistake,” I turned to look at him. “It never should’ve happened.”

“But it did happen. You can’t keep acting like it didn’t.”

“I can, and I will.”

“But why?”

I was silent. My eyes looked away from him, but I felt his hand touch my thigh. A shiver went up my spine, and I bit my tongue. This wasn’t happening…

“Just tell me,” he whispered, “Tell me and I promise I’ll leave you alone. Is it because of work? I know you have a high position in the government, and I understand that you don’t have time for…”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?” 

“I don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“I don’t... know how to do any of this. This has never happened before.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t make me say it.” 

He stared at me for a moment, but then the corner of his lips curved upwards, “So is that a yes?”

“A yes to what?”

“Seeing me again,” his face was beaming. 

The car suddenly stopped. The privacy shade rolled up and the driver announced that we had reached our destination. 

“What would you say to having dinner with me?” 

“Greg, I…”

“If I may sir,” my driver leaned over the back of his seat, “Your schedule is clear for this Saturday. Perhaps you and Mr. Lestrade would enjoy a trip to that new French bistro on Baker Street. I hear the food is delicious.”

“Sounds lovely,” Greg said. “What do you think, Mr. Holmes?” 

He looked at me, his eyes sparkling like a child’s. I sighed. 

“I suppose a night out would be nice,” I conceded. 

“Yes!” Greg exclaimed. 

“Very good, sir,” my driver said, “I’ll arrange for it.”

We thanked him and exited the vehicle together. Greg escorted me up my front steps like a gentleman and then turned to leave, but I stopped him. As before, I wasn’t entirely sure what I was doing until it was too late. I pressed my lips to his. It caught him off guard so he resisted at first, but then I felt him melt into it. I shut my eyes, and I listened to the beating of my heart in my ears. My entire body felt tingly. Was that normal? My fingers grabbed at his hair, and his hand traveled down my back. 

“Mr. Holmes!” the voice of my driver reminded us of where we were. 

The two of us pulled apart, our faces flushed. 

“Mr. Holmes, it’s getting late. Would you like me to drive Mr. Lestrade home?”

We looked at each other and laughed.

“No, Mr. Bennett, that’s quite alright. Mr. Lestrade is welcome to stay as long as he likes,” I said, “You are dismissed. Have a good evening.”

“Good evening, sir.”

The car disappeared over the hill, and the two of us were alone on the steps. Greg’s hand cupped my face and he leaned forward once more, but I turned away.

“What is it?”

I was blushing again, I could feel it, “We can’t just keep making out here on the porch. Would you like to come upstairs?”

He smiled.

“I’d like that.”


End file.
